


Written in the Stars

by littlepurinsesu



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon Universe, EPILEO, Light Angst, M/M, Post-Canon, Pre-Epilogue, Romance, Stargazing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-11 12:46:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11714688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlepurinsesu/pseuds/littlepurinsesu
Summary: I remember you fancied the idea of there being as many emotions as stars in the sky. But now that I look up and trace my fingers between the tiny orbs of light, my other hand stroking absentmindedly at the feather tied around my waist, I think there are as many memories as there are stars, too. I’d teased you for being a romantic back then, but it looks like you’ve influenced me in more ways than I imagined, huh?





	Written in the Stars

**Author's Note:**

> I haven’t written fanfiction in over five years, and have never really thought about participating in a fandom week. But Sormik gives me feelings and makes me do things I never intended.  
> Inspiration struck and I came up with a way to somehow encompass all of the days for this year’s Sormik Week into one comprehensive piece. So here I am, presenting a very late entry for Sormik Week 2017! Most of it is based on game canon, with one scene taken from the manga and quite a bit of headcanon and filling in the gaps.  
> Enjoy (hopefully)!
> 
> [Sormik Week 2017 Prompts]  
> Days 1-7: Innocence | Trust | Nature | Loss | Truth | Acceptance | Fate  
> Bonus Day: Rebirth

Sorey, do you remember those nights when we watched the stars together? And how we would fall asleep under their light, only to wake before dawn and bid the retreating stars good morning?

Because I do. And I think about those nights a lot lately, especially tonight as I lie alone, gazing up at the same stars. It’s chilly and empty, a little nostalgic, and so very lonely, but it reminds me of you. It reminds me of your smile and your hope and all the traces of _you_ in there, and suddenly, the centuries passed and the ones to come, however many they may be, seem just a little more bearable. Only a little bit, though; I am yet to master the art of stargazing without the tears keeping me company in your place, but I’ll get there. Have some faith in me.

In retrospect, I seem to have taken for granted all those times when we would lie with our faces turned towards the sky, mapping constellations and creating stories that made it all the more easy to believe that they were just as real as us. On more than a few occasions, when I thought I had my eyes focused directly above, it would take me several moments to notice that I had tilted my head for a glimpse of you instead. Sometimes, I could rest my eyes on your serene face, the edges of my lips lifting unconsciously at the sight of those two emerald orbs, sparkling with awe and fascination as they took in the expanse of glitter overhead. Other times, when my head turned intuitively to my side, I would be met with your affectionate gaze instead, with an expression so doting that I couldn’t look away with a feigned statement of annoyance if I tried.

And when you were feeling particularly romantic, we would make the sky our theatre and the stars our audience. You would wrap your fraying brown blanket around our shoulders and lean in to whisper all sorts of endearments and declarations of love. They were so hopelessly sappy, I could never tell if you had memorised them from a romance novel or composed them yourself in that dreamy mind of yours. But the soothing drift of the wind would carry each of your words like a star itself, scattering them to join the rest of the jewels in the night sky, like a fairy sprinkling a bag full of enchanted pixie dust. The sky was like your canvas, and each night, you would seemingly bless those shining lights with your endless love and inspiration, while I watched your face and saw the brilliance of galaxies gleaming in your eyes. Each amorous word you offered me was a sacred treasure to which only the stars bore witness, before I tucked them into the depths of my heart, sealing the lock with a kiss that you were all too ready to give.

Recently, I often feel the loneliness burning in my chest, welling up and straining the back of my throat, only to remain that way because there simply aren’t any more tears left to shed. So on those nights when the longing is particularly unbearable and I feel myself suffocating, I turn to these same stars. I drown myself in their soft glow and think of you being gone, of not being able to hear your voice when I call or feel your skin when I reach out. That is usually enough to drain all the feeling from my body until I am left with nothing but my raw yearning for you. And when that’s all that’s left, the tears can finally flow, and I feel a little better afterwards.

I remember you fancied the idea of there being as many emotions as stars in the sky. But now that I look up and trace my fingers between the tiny orbs of light, my other hand stroking absentmindedly at the feather tied around my waist, I think there are as many memories as there are stars, too. I’d teased you for being a romantic back then, but it looks like you’ve influenced me in more ways than I imagined, huh?

Say, Sorey, that cluster of stars on the far left kind of looks like an Elysialark, don’t you think? Just like the ones that dropped a few of their feathers that day when we went birdwatching together for the very first time. You tripped on a fallen tree branch and went plummeting forward, sending the larks away in a terrified flurry of flapping wings. I was clearly irritated and more than a little disappointed then, so you picked up two of the smallest and fluffiest feathers they left behind, comically holding them to your ears in an attempt to raise my spirits again. Because, like you said, if I couldn’t watch the larks I had been waiting for all week, then you would happily be a bird for a day, or any animal I desired to see, as long as it put the smile back on my face. With a grin that stretched from one ear to the other and creased your eyes into crescents, you playfully waggled the tiny orange feathers and asked me how you looked. I huffed, crossed my tiny arms, and turned my head away, informing you that you looked silly. But then Kyme, the traitor, let slip that I admitted to him that you had looked quite cute and lovable back then. After spending the entirety of the next day holed up in your bedroom, you proudly emerged that night with newly fashioned feather earrings of your own craftsmanship, vowing never to take them off. If I liked them, then you liked them, too. And most of all, you elaborated, if a stranger were to ask about the earrings, you could tell them all about me and how amazing I was and how lucky you were to have me. You really were stretching the correlation, but I was immensely flattered and more than a little delighted, even if I didn’t say so.

See that long stretch of stars, curving and twisting to form the smooth frame of our bow? That will always be one of my favourite memories. Hearing my true name spilling from your mouth in that confident and protective tone, I probably would have melted into a mass of trembling light even if it hadn’t been for the newly forged Sub Lord pact. But melting into _you_ , and feeling the soft vibration of our souls becoming one, the cool rush of my element enveloping our body, and the excited hammering of our heart in our ears, of our blood in our veins, and of our dream guiding us as we fired arrow after arrow… That had to be the epitome of our synchronisation. You said that ours was your favourite—the one you could command most easily at will and felt the most at home with—and somehow, each time when I think of those words, I still feel the pride and pleasure surge in the pit of my stomach. Our bond is something that cannot be rivalled, because, like you reminded me in the dim light of one of the inns we slept in, I am your one and only. Even now, I still feel my cheeks tingle at the memory of your voice that night, soft and low as you lay on your side and ran your fingers through my hair. I went for a light punch on your shoulder and a declaration that you were a hopeless sap, but now that I think back on that moment, I wish I had been more honest with my response.

Look there, can you see those stars lined up evenly to form the stout trunk of a tree? It makes me think of that great towering tree and the way it stood, tall and proud, watching over the people as their town recovered from the epidemic. I remember turning furtively towards my left and seeing the joy on your face as you watched the lush greens carpeting the earth and the radiance return to the blue afternoon sky. You couldn’t stop the cheerful exclamation from escaping your mouth, which was set wide open in the shape of my favourite smile, as a single butterfly emerged from the blossoming bushes nearby, taking to the sky in a burst of the most vibrant of purples. You turned to peer at me quizzically when I let out a slight chuckle, and told me, so nonchalantly yet so genuinely, that the purple reminded you of my eyes. And as the butterfly circled a tree branch twice before disappearing into the distance, I thought of how the violet had looked so picturesque against the brilliant green all around us. They belonged with one another, and each time you locked me in your bright emerald gaze, I knew there were no two colours that could be as beautiful together.

Over there above the tree, there’s a smaller patch that looks almost like a paper crane. That night, the wind carried our crane into the bleak darkness of the sky, and while its journey might have been a lonesome one, I know it found its way to him. I remember we spent that night together, alone, and how you broke down and collapsed on me, remorse and shame eating away at the usual passion in your voice. He was important to us, and you wanted and tried so hard to save him, but you couldn’t. None of us could, and I think that was the night when we truly understood the weight of our journey. People we cared about, and people we didn’t even know or had never even met, could leave us at any moment. You clutched at my tunic, sobbing into my chest at the thought of losing anyone else—of losing me. And before I realised, my fingers were tightening as I grabbed fistfuls of your cloak, holding you tighter and closer as I felt my own tears fall and land in the brown mass of your hair. We ended the night with pledges to keep everyone safe, and most importantly, promises to protect one another so that either of us wouldn’t have to endure the pain of losing the other. That, then, had been enough reassurance to lull me into a restless slumber, yet here I am, living that fear and still going strong. Maybe not as strong as I would have hoped, but I’m trying. I really am.

If I squint and tilt my head a little, I think I can make out a petite flower on the far right of the sky. It isn’t anything extravagant, nothing too fancy, just a small and innocent dandelion flower, like the one you picked up when you gingerly approached me that evening. You caught my shuddering form in your sturdy arms, cradling me against your chest as my tears stained the right side of your cape, where the fabric stretched across your broad shoulder. As my distressed and infuriated cries echoed in the tranquility of the evening, you gently detached my fingers from their tight grip on your clothes, looked me in the eyes, and assured me that I was special. I was important, I was needed, and I was loved by so many people, but most of all, by you. And no historical revelation of my past or disturbing truth about any bygone Shepherd could change that. You offered me one of those tender smiles then, the kind that only you are capable of giving, the kind that can somehow make me want to drop to my knees and gather all the pieces of the hope that I had just thrown away. Carefully, you brushed the hair out of my teary eyes and tucked the flower behind my ear, beaming softly at how the cool violet of my eyes brought out its dazzling yellow. You kissed me gently on the tip of my nose, and spoke of your desire to see my spirits as bright as the flower again. I cling to those words today, too, even though I don’t think it possible for my spirits to be as bright as any flower without you around.

Can you connect the lines between that mass of stars down there, just underneath the Elysialark? They’re arranged so precisely that I can almost make out the outline of a book. Not just any book, though. That one I always had to deftly pry from beneath your cheek before attempting to wipe away the small puddle of your drool. That one with the tiny heart with my initials inside, carefully and lovingly penciled into the bottom left corner of page thirty-six on water seraphim, where you thought I wouldn’t notice. That one you passed to me on that fateful night, when you passed your dream into my hands. Standing a few steps above, it was a rare opportunity to see you from a higher viewpoint, since this privilege is usually only granted when you would lift me up with your arms secured around my waist to spin me around in uneven, dizzying circles. Without the need to yelp or squeeze my eyes shut to prevent lightheadedness, I could truly take in your form, and it was at that moment that I realised just how _young_ you were. You stared at me with those bright juvenile eyes, emerald green against the dark of the night sky and practically dancing with life, and spoke with a confidence that betrayed the naivety of your soul. You’d come such a long way, Sorey, and there was still so much for you to learn. And there you were, the conviction radiating from your smile and the determination firm in your stance, an innocent youth ready to set off to serve as the world’s saviour. Anyone who looked at you wouldn’t have believed that a candid, lively young man such as yourself would be the hope for humans and seraphim alike. But I knew you well—perhaps even better than I understood myself, sometimes—and I was confident that you could do it. And you did. Even now, you’re still doing it, aren’t you? You’re out there somewhere, playing your part in creating the world we once dreamed of, and I’m lying here… Don’t worry, I promise I’m doing my part in protecting our dream and making it a reality. But sometimes, I just need a small break. A small, self-indulgent moment to reflect and remember what it felt like to just be _us_. I’m almost done, though. Just one more constellation… one more memory… is that okay? Just one more and I’ll be done for tonight.

Hmm… the last one has to be special, right? What about the closely huddled band of stars there, right in the middle? The rise and fall of their path and the distinct glimmer in the centre remind me of the glove. Yes, the glove that transformed from a mere plaything I had mischievously dangled just out of your reach to the symbol of the burden that would later weigh down on your shoulders. The gears of fate were already turning, steering us towards our journey. But that journey on which we embarked together, shoulder to shoulder and heart to heart, has ended. And now, fate has put me on the path of a new journey, where I’m learning to keep my head held high and my eyes trained to the front, rather than to my right, because only then can I keep my promise of preserving our dream by moving on forward. But not too much. I know I always loved the pleasure of getting a head-start, but this time, I don’t want to get too far ahead of you. The race isn’t nearly as exciting or rewarding when I can’t hear your loud, hurried footsteps thundering from behind. I’ll take it slowly, and when you’re here to join me again, I’ll backtrack and retrace the steps of my journey with you by my side. No journey can end without you beside me, so while I wait for your return, my journey will continue. And maybe by the time I can reach instinctively to my right and finally take your slightly calloused hand in mine again, the Shepherd’s glove will be but a mere fragment of our past, and your hands will be free to embrace the new life that your deeds have breathed into this land.

You know, Sorey, sometimes when I stare wistfully at these stars and see them blinking back, it almost feels as though you’re up there somewhere, casting your adoring gaze upon me. It’s like the warm feeling of home, because no matter where I am, I can look up and be assured that these stars, these same stars that have witnessed the countless secrets and promises and kisses we’ve shared, will understand my feelings and pass them on to you. Does it ever feel lonely for you, Sorey? Because if the loneliness ever becomes too much, just turn your head to the sky and know that somewhere, I am gazing at the same stars, too. If you try really hard, like I have on so many occasions, it might even be possible to send some of your thoughts to them and hope that they can pass them on to me. Go on, give it a try! And if I do receive them, I’ll have the confirmation I need: that the stars really can act as a bridge between us, and that my feelings really can reach you. That would make a really big difference for me, you know?

And if not, I’ll still be okay, because I have all of the emotions and memories etched into the twinkle of these stars to keep me company. There’s pain and suffering and grief and despair, but there’s also joy, excitement, determination, courage, love, hope, and so much more. So I’ll be okay as I wait while time keeps passing by. Time waits for no one, but I will wait for you.

Sorey, will you allow me to break the tiny promise I made just before? Because now, as I lift myself from my resting position and make to retreat indoors before daybreak, I see the pair of stars we always followed whenever we became lost on one of our grand adventures, and I suddenly want to stay out here to look at them for just a little longer. We compared them to all sorts of things in the past: a prince and a princess living their fairytale ending, a pair of cherries perched enticingly on top of the fruit sundaes I often made for you, or even the two rose bushes we planted together during our first gardening lesson with Melody. We never got around to deciding what they were, so tonight, I’m going to go ahead and name them myself. You wouldn’t mind if I did that, would you? Sometimes inspiration strikes, and like so many things in our lives, can trickle through the gaps between our fingers if we do not hold onto them tightly.

That one on the left will now be known as ‘Luzrov Rulay’. And the one beside it on the right, its light shining so bright and so close that they almost merge into one big spark, is now called ‘Sorey’. How does that sound to you? Do you like it? Or maybe, if I continue to hold out with the patience and trust that I have always had in you, a time will come when I can give this star a different name.

You’ll have a true name by the time you come back to me, won’t you? Or perhaps I could be the one to give yours to you? I’ve never told you this, but I already have so many ideas! Sorey with the Sweet Tooth, Sorey with the Bottomless Stomach, Sorey with the Tickling Obsession… Sorey of Adventures, Sorey of Feather Earrings, Sorey of a Sacrifice… Sorey the Hope of the World, Sorey the Light of the Future, Sorey my One and Only…

I think I’ll save naming this star for a later time. Maybe by then, I’ll get to name it something different, or maybe its name will still end up being simply ‘Sorey’. But either way, hopefully when I finally get around to giving it a name, I’ll be able to turn to my side and see the brightest star in my life, shining so gloriously that everything else dulls in its presence. Actually, knowing you, you would find a way to give that light to everyone else as well, and even then, you would still be the brightest of them all.

And if you don’t remember, I’ll lay you down and chart every single one of these constellations just for you. We can take it slow, because if the time comes when I am the only one of us to still be in possession of these memories, it would mean that we have all the time in the world. Your memories, _our_ memories, are safe with me, and when you come back home, I’ll lovingly place them back into your hands and watch the stars reflected in your eyes as you relive them one by one.

Okay, I’m done. For real, this time. Tomorrow, I’ll continue working hard to achieve our dream, and as usual, I’ll work extra hard for your share as well. The air is frosty and the ground is uneven, but I think I’m going to sleep out here tonight. Don’t worry, I won’t catch a cold or anything. I just really want to remain like this: the stars in the sky, the memories in my mind, and you in my heart.

We have a big dream that I am guarding, but for now, I’d like to dream of something much simpler. Of you. Just you, and nothing else. And that will be enough for tonight, I think.

Yes, that would be more than enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on [Tumblr](http://littlepurinsesu.tumblr.com/post/163698134218/written-in-the-stars). (Thank you to everyone who read/liked/reblogged the original Tumblr post!)


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